


Playing the Waiting Game

by LetItRaines



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItRaines/pseuds/LetItRaines
Summary: For years, Emma was told to stay away from pirates and others who did not uphold the integrity of the crown she was raised to represent. Emma was never particularly good at listening, however, and while she can still hear the words of her parents in the recesses of her mind, there’s a louder voice that keeps calling her to one particular pirate captain.(An Enchanted Forest AU)
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 52
Kudos: 262





	Playing the Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> To all of you who ask me for something other than a modern au, here is my present, haha. We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon 😉😘

Birdsong rings out from above her, wings whipping through trees and rustling the leaves, and Emma uses the sounds to keep her own footsteps quiet. There are too many leaves and stray branches scattered on the forest floor, and while she doubts there is anyone else out here when most everyone has work to attend to, she still likes to keep her presence quiet. She’s old enough to know that she’s never truly alone, and lately there seems to be some kind of danger around every corner.

Or, at least, that’s what her father was always telling her.

She was brought up with these never-ending senses of freedom and adventure and hope, and while remnants of those three remain in some of her choices, there are voices in the back of her mind reminding her to be careful with her actions.

And with her heart.

One of those voices is her father. The other is very clearly her mother.

Right now, she’d rather not hear from either of them for once.

After a few minutes of wandering, she finally finds the spot for which she was searching. Beyond the trees but before the cliffs, Emma walks upon a spring with water babbling and then rushing away as it travels to the ocean. It is not salty like the water of the sea, isn’t constantly filled with fisherman and Naval officers and the occasional pirate ship , and she seeks the peace of it and how refreshing it is to bathe without having to listen to the commotion that’s always taking place in the tavern. Emma will be forever thankful for Granny and Ruby for giving her a room and work with good pay, but the simplicity and lawlessness of the place is not what she’s accustomed to.

Well, it is now.

Looking around once more, Emma decides there is no one around, and she shrugs off her cape before working around the buttons at the back of her dress. She doesn’t have on a corset today, can’t be forced into one unless she’s trying to earn more coin at the tavern or at the docks when she sells jewelry with Ruby, but undressing still brings her a sense of freedom and a lightness that couldn’t be found for many years.

_“That’s the ability to breathe,”_ Granny always says. _“Men take it for granted because they can wear whatever they damn well please, while we have to wear torture devices to keep our waists trim and our breasts high. Bloody ridiculous.”_

When Emma’s toes sink into the water, it’s chilled. The month is not yet March, but it’s a particularly sunny day. Emma assumed the waters would be fine, and after a few minutes of shivering, they are. The Summer Isles are never too cold. Misthaven used to freeze every year, frost and snow covering all of the land, and while Emma does miss the snow, she at least doesn’t have to worry about losing her toes to frostbite.

Humming to herself, Emma takes her hair out of its plaits and then wades beneath the water, letting every inch of her long, golden hair soak, before she swims to the shore and reaches over for the lotions she brought with her. This one smells of lavender, and while she knows that Ruby is not fond of the thought of becoming someone’s wife, Emma selfishly wonders if Ruby might marry Graham so that he can continue to bring soaps and lotions to the tavern.

Then again, Emma is sure she could procure these all on her own. She has some coin stashed away, could sell some of her finer dresses and jewels that she managed to bring with her, but doing that seems like erasing her parents.

Their voices pop back up again, such hope and optimism there, and she pushes them away.

_Not today, not today, not today._

“If it isn’t Ms. Swan lazing about in the spring.”

Emma’s eyes spring open, and she sinks further into the water while her heart beats an erratic pace. What the hell is he doing here? How did he find her here? How did she not hear him walk over the crunch of the leaves on the ground?

“What are you doing here?” Emma finally manages to ask. He smirks, eyes looking downward, and she crosses her arms over her chest to cover her breasts. 

“Well, I was going to endeavor to take a proper bath without being hounded by my crew, but it seems someone is occupying the spring. You’re making a mighty fine show of it, lass.” He raises his hands. “On my honor, I have seen nothing below those delicate shoulders of yours. Wouldn’t be proper.”

Emma rolls her eyes and starts floating toward her things while keeping an eye on him. He’s in nothing but his leathers and a long, dark shirt today that is open enough that it barely covers any of his chest. That’s not unusual, though, and she finds that her eyes linger at the dark patches of hair covering the strong muscle before they move up to the multitude of silver chains around his neck. Finally, though, they settle on the sharp, stubble-covered jaw and the white teeth showing in a smile that always makes her skin pebble up in gooseflesh.

One part of her wants to say that’s in a good way while the other is not so sure.

“Killian Jones, since when are you proper?”

He scoffs and places his hand on his chest, affronted. “I am _always_ a gentleman, milady.”

“If you’re so much of a gentleman, why don’t you turn around and allow me to get dressed.”

“As you wish.”

“And don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.”

He twists around and winks, the bastard. “I would despair if you did, but I promise to keep my eyes off of you, which is such a bloody shame.”

She has to bite her tongue. She doesn’t know if it’s to keep from laughing or scolding him, and since she seems to be at war with herself so much, she decides to keep her own mouth shut as she climbs out of the spring and moves to her clothes, pulling her shift down over her before dressing in more complete layers. The clothes cling to her wet skin, and her hair will take ages to brush through, but at least she’s no longer exposed to the elements and to Jones. 

She’s not a prude. Really, many around the village would call her a whore because she’s been in a man’s bed before marriage, but she’s not particularly interested in societal norms anymore. But she doesn’t have much of an interest in Killian Jones seeing her in the nude if it’s not on her terms.

Ruby would cheer her on for that thought. Granny would likely tell her to watch herself.

“You can turn around now.”

He makes a show of it, slowly turning and sauntering toward her, and when he’s standing but a few feet away, she gets a glimpse at overly blue eyes that she could swear he managed to steal from the sea.

“You cut quite the figure in that dress, Swan.”

“I’m not wearing a corset.”

  
  
“I think it is apparent that you need not wear one.”

Emma rolls her eyes and reaches up to start braiding her hair. “So, when did you return to the Isles?”

“A few hours ago. I was planning on bringing the men to the tavern tonight. We had a successful voyage. Figured we all deserved a celebratory drink.”

  
  
“There are other taverns.”

“Ah, but none with bar wenches as pretty as you.”

This time Emma can’t hold back her laughter, and even with her head tilted back to the sunlight, she knows that he’s smiling.

“I am not a bar wench, and you are not courting me.”

“Why ever not, love?” he asks with a wink. Even then, though, he steps closer to her, and she allows him to place his hand and his hook on her hip. This isn’t unfamiliar territory for them, and she knows herself enough to know that one day she’ll cave. Is it really caving when it’s what she wants? “I could court you. Believe it or not, I was taught how to properly court a woman. I simply believe my way is more thrilling.”

  
  
“That’s because your way involves rum and sex.”

  
  
“You forget the gambling.”

  
  
Emma scoffs, and Killian leans in closer, dipping his head to her neck so that she can feel the softness of his lips and the slight scratch of his beard move against the sensitive cords of her neck.

_Fuck, that feels good._

To think that at one time she would have never dared to utter that phrase nearly makes her giggle.

“How could I – however could I forget the gambling?”

  
  
“Maybe you were distracted,” he teases as his teeth gently bite down before pulling away. Emma gasps before she can stop herself, and Killian’s chuckle is warm against her skin. “I have been told I can be a distracting man.”

“In your dreams.”

“Ah, well, you are indeed in my dreams.”

She allows him to trail his lips against her skin for a few minutes, letting the pleasure rumble over her and settle deep in her belly, but then the voices are back, telling her that she’s better than a pirate, that this isn’t proper.

She never did care much about proper. Why would she now?

“I’ll see you tonight,” Emma whispers as she pulls herself away, heart thumping. Killian’s cheeks are red, his chest heaving, and she knows if she looked down, his trousers would be tight. “I’ll find time to play cards with you, and you can tell me about your journey.”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan.”

And then she’s gathering all of her things and quickly moving away. By the time she’s out of the woods and back inside the perimeters of the village, she smells wood and salt, and she can’t decide if that is from the town or if it’s from Killian.

It’s been months since he’s been back. She doesn’t remember exactly when he left, but she always knows when the Jolly Roger is docked here. The tavern is usually the home to travelers and fisherman, but every few months, each bench and bed are filled with pirates. They may bring in a different type of man, but whenever they leave, Emma’s coin purse is always full from tips and Granny can afford to buy whatever materials she needs for upkeep.

They are all surprisingly well-behaved, but really, if one knows the captain, one knows that isn’t all that surprising at all. The man likes his rum and his card games, mostly because he keeps weighted dice and extra cards up his sleeve, and while a brawl or two does break out, it’s not what Emma thought to expect from a pirate.

_“Pirates are no good, sweetheart,”_ her father once said as he paced back and forth in the library. _“They come to our land and they plunder. They have been known to take women and ruin families. They threaten lives for gold. What could possibly be good about a pirate?”_

What could be good about a pirate?

A part of her knows, but it’s her parents’ voices and their memory that keeps her from fully falling into finding out.

When she gets back to the tavern, Ruby is sitting in the corner on a bench with Graham, the two of them laughing at some private joke, and they don’t pay any attention to her as she sulks through and slips behind the bar and back into the kitchen where Granny is chopping up a few vegetables while water simmers over the fire.

“We’re going to be busy tonight,” Emma casually tells her, grabbing an apple. “I would get out the rum and whiskey.”

  
  
Granny turns back to her and rises her brows. “How do you know that?”

  
  
“I’ve heard a rumor the Jolly Roger is back.”

Granny puts her knife down and places her hands on her hips. “Did you hear a rumor, or have you seen that captain of yours already?”

Emma bites into the apple, and juices run down her face. “He is not mine.”

“Maybe not, but he’s sweet on you.”

  
  
“And why is that a problem? Graham is being sweet on Ruby out there.”

“Graham is a respectable man.”

Emma opens her mouth to say that she knows for a fact that Graham isn’t quite as respectable with Ruby as Grammy thinks he is, but instead she takes another bite of her apple.

“Look,” Granny sighs, picking up her knife to cut her vegetables again, “you are a mature woman, and you are not my kin. But you also came here five years ago with a chest of expensive goods and not a lick of sense for how to live, so you cannot blame me for caring for you. That man is a sight for sore eyes, and if you want him to warm your bed over the next few weeks, I will not attempt to stop you. When he leaves, however, and he will leave, I don’t want to hear a word of melancholy out of you. Now help me cook dinner and then we’ll prepare for tonight, aye?”

Her parents would definitely be fond of Granny.

Emma helps cook and clean and knead the dough for the bread they’ll bake in the morning, and by the time the night falls and the tavern is lit by nothing more than candle and lantern light, every bench and barstool is full with the excess men leaning against walls and sitting on open window sills that allow the night breeze to waft in. None of them have had a moment to sit down or take a breath from constantly refilling drinks and serving food, and Emma’s feet are starting to ache from constantly standing. She should have had more time to soak them today during her bath, but there’s obviously something to be said about best laid plans being spoiled.

“You have an admirer,” Ruby tells her, nudging her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s been able to keep his eyes off of you all night.”

  
  
“Yeah, well, we both know I’m his type. Look at all of the women surrounding him. He could easily pretend any of them are me.”

There’s a heaviness in the pit of Emma’s stomach when she looks over at Killian, at the way he commands his table with whatever tale he’s weaving and how the women bat their eyelashes at him and run their fingers over his shoulders.

“You are blind if you think any of them hold a candle to you, my dear. Why don’t you go talk to him, play a round of cards? It’s slowing down. If I need you, I can easily get you.”

“I don’t know, Rubes.”

“Why not? He’s handsome, he’s got a sense of humor, and he’s only ever here for a few weeks at a time. I know you’re not interested in a commitment. What else could you want?”

“I want,” she starts, but then she realizes she doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know.”

Ruby sighs and turns to Emma, placing her hands on her shoulders and squeezing until Emma looks directly in Ruby’s eyes. “I don’t know who exactly you were before you came here, but I know you’re not someone who lets the opinion of others stop her from having a little fun. So don’t listen to my Granny. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And don’t listen to whatever part of you says you can’t be with him because he’s a pirate. It’s just a job, Emma. It’s illegal in some places and not the most clean cut in others, but nearly everyone who walks through here is doing something that’s a little…crooked.”

  
  
“That’s one way to put it.”

“Go,” Ruby insists with a shake of her head. “Have a good time tonight, and if you hate it, which you won’t, I will not bother you at all. I swear of it.”

  
  
“I will hold you to your word.”

  
  
“I know you will.” Ruby moves her hands from Emma’s shoulders and then loosens the laces on the front of her dress, exposing the tops of her breasts. Leave it to Ruby to do that. “Enjoy your night, and if you’re fortunate, your morning too.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she listens…after she drinks a small glass of rum herself.

Killian isn’t paying her any attention as she shuffles through the tavern and moves to the back of the room where he’s sitting. He’s shuffling a deck of cards with his hand when she walks up while muttering something to the women ogling him, but he does finally look up when she learns over the table.

“What are you boys playing?”

He blinks, slowly, and his lips tick up to the right while his tongue flickers out, running over his bottom lip. It’s a look she’s seen before, but it’s not one she’s allowed herself to fully appreciate it.

That’s a damn shame.

“Smee,” Killian calls out, slamming the cards down, “come and take my place in the game.”

“But Captain – ”

“Smee – ”

“Aye, sir. I will gladly take over.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emma chuckles. “I would have played with you.”

  
  
“You would have lost,” he whispers as he stands and gets nearer to her. “It was rigged.”

Emma clicks her tongue. “I should have known.”

“Later, though, I might shuffle a new deck, and I give you my word that I will not keep any cards up my sleeve.” 

“I make no such promise myself.”

He chuckles and dips his head until his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Would you like to come back to my ship for a nightcap?”

Emma gulps.

“I don’t believe I can leave Ruby and Granny here alone when we have all of your crew.”

“Pity that. Still, have a drink with me. I did promise to tell you about my journeys.”

“That you did.”

They settle at a table in the corner of the tavern beneath one of the few closed windows. Ruby brings them a pitcher of ale and two small glasses, and before she walks away, she winks and makes a gesture that Emma hopes Killian ignored.

Or maybe she hopes that he saw it.

Emma does not know what she wants, truly, but she pushes down those thoughts and then downs a pewter of ale while Killian begins weaving a tale of his adventures. She can tell that he’s leaving parts out, that he’s curating this for her ears, and she tries to piece together the parts he is not sharing. He went to Misthaven, and she wants to know more.

How is it doing?

Are the people happy?  
  


What about the flowers? Were any blooming despite the month?

Is there still a large rock with her name engraved in it sitting on the shore?

But why would he know any of that? He didn’t make the voyage there to quench her curiosity. He went to make a deal with another pirate captain, something about them both coming across an abandoned ship full of goods. She didn’t know pirate captains made deals like that. She thought they simply killed and attacked for what they wanted.

Then again, she’s starting to realize that maybe she doesn’t know anything about him past the rumors and few bits and pieces he’s shared over the years.

And yet she so readily lets him run his lips across her skin and was fully ready to share his bed tonight.

Emma sucks in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Her heart is far from calm, and she suddenly can’t get enough air.

“Love,” Killian says, his thumb on her chin as he turns her attention back to him. “Are you quite alright, lass?”

Emma nods and swallows before plastering a fake smile on her face as her hand moves from her lap up to Killian’s hook, tracing along the metal. He watches her movements, and she knows she’s distracted him.

“I have a confession to make."

"I find most women do."

I want to know how you got the hook. You hear so many stories…”

“And what have you heard?”

  
  
“Nothing that I don’t want to hear from you.”

His brows pinch together, but then he softens them while his lips stretch and she has a view of his pretty white teeth. “An enemy took it from me because he believed I took something of his.”

“Something more important than a hand?”

“More important, aye.” Blue eyes glance away before he leans in closer, his hand pressing down on her thigh. “If we’re sharing secrets, would you like to tell me how you became so educated? Or why your attention on me has increased when I was speaking about Misthaven?”

“I’ve read about it is all,” she lies. “My parents taught me to read. I was fortunate.”

“And where are these parents now? Do they know you’re associating with dirty pirate captains?”

“You bathed earlier.”

Killian tilts his head back with a big, booming laugh, and half of the tavern looks their way before he can contain himself and look directly at her, his eyes piercing. “I bathe quite frequently, but I don’t believe I could win the approval of any woman’s parents. So, where are Mum and Dad, love? Do I have to worry about dear old father want to chop off my other hand?”

“No, no you don’t.” A sob catches in Emma’s throat, and this time she can’t swallow it down. “What’d you take from your enemy?”

“That isn’t important for you to know.”

  
  
“I want to know.”

  
  
“Well, it’s none of your bloody business!” He picks up the pitcher of ale and takes a large swig directly from it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “I think I best let you get back to work, sweetheart. I’m suddenly not in a mood for a night cap.”

He moves his hand of her thigh and reaches into his pocket before tossing a small purse onto the table. “For your trouble. Have a good night, Swan.”

And then he stands and walks away, coat swishing behind him until he disappears out the tavern door and into the darkness of night.

-/-

When the crew of the Jolly Roger comes into the tavern the next night, Emma lets Ruby deal with the Captain’s table. She feels Killian’s eyes on her the entire night, and she knows they’re a darker shade of blue than they usually are.

‘Tis no matter. If he wants to push her and wants her to talk but she can’t ask him questions, then they’ll stay at this stalemate. He’ll be gone soon enough, and he’ll be nothing but a distant memory until he comes back.

If he comes back.

She doesn’t need to be sharing her bed with him anyhow. It would be momentary pleasure only to be left and disappointed again. If she wants someone to sleep next to at night with no connection, there are plenty of other men in the village. She doesn’t need him.

So Emma lets him come and go as he pleases, serves him when she has to, sells jewelry to his crew on the days she works at the docks, and he seems to be choosing to mind his own business as well.

Good.

Days pass before they turn into weeks, and the sting when Emma sees him has dissipated to nothing but the smallest of aches, and he seems to be coming into the tavern less and less. Ruby and Granny have both mentioned it, but Emma has brushed them off, not wanting or needing to explain any piece of her life to them no matter how good they’ve been to her.

She is allowed her own bits of privacy.

Tonight she is taking that privacy by sweeping the alley outside of the tavern while Ruby, Graham, and Granny work inside. It’s unsurprisingly busy tonight. With spring sweeping in, warm weather has come too, and it has allowed the ocean breeze to settle into the air, leaving a warm salt. There’s no need for cloaks and gloves and several pairs of stockings, and Emma longs for the summer even more now.

“Where are you taking me, Captain?” Emma hears a woman giggle, and she sinks back against the building, her heart pounding as loud as horse hooves. “Are we going to your ship?”

“I’m giving you your coin, you will tell my crew I had a nice time should the question arise, and then you may go and enjoy your night.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you, lass,” Killian mutters, his hook flashing in the moonlight. “Have a good night.”

  
  
“Why don’t you want me to share your bed tonight?”

“My reasons are my own. Question them at your own peril.”

And then he turns and walks away, his boots crunching on the gravel.

Emma can’t quite believe what she’s just seen, and she swallows the ever-present lump in her throat before pushing off the wall and dropping the broom against the door. Her curiosity is going to get the best of her because instead of returning to her work, she follows the sound of Killian’s footsteps and then his shadow as he returns to his ship. She’s likely not welcome, but that doesn’t stop her from watching him bark at a cabin boy before he walks through the doors to his quarters.

She hesitates, lingering on her toes, and maybe she’s being dull tonight, but she quietly sneaks aboard the Jolly, making sure none of the remaining crew spot her, before she follows in Killian’s footsteps and opens the door that will lead her to his cabin.

“Jim, I said I was not to be disturbed!”

“My name is not Jim.”

There’s a clatter and a curse, and when Emma is able to climb off the ladder, she can see Killian picking up a stack of books, still muttering to himself.

At least he isn’t cursing at her. She would deserve it for having walked onto his ship without him knowing.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Curiosity,” she admits, taking in the small room filled with books and a small table, as well as a bed that looks more comfortable than hers at the tavern. He seems to have quite the collection of small goods, and her mind betrays her again by wanting to know where exactly he acquired each of them. “Frustration also. I don’t understand you, Killian Jones.”

“Not many people do. Few know me well enough to, and I don’t have most people call me by my name. Most use my more colorful moniker.”

“I like Killian better.”

He huffs and picks up a pewter cup, placing it on the table next to what looks like a map. Are these his plans for his next adventure?

“What are you frustrated about, Swan? Have I done something else to offend you? Pushed you too much? Gotten under your skin? Or are you here to pester me about my past once more?”

Emma shrugs and sits down at the edge of his bed, running her finger across the blanket. “My parents always warned me about pirates, you know?”

“I imagine most did.”

  
  
“They said you were all despicable and dangerous and that I should never trust any of you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

She hums, more unconvinced now than ever before. “But there’s this weird thing about you that makes me trust you despite everything in my head telling me not to. Would I be wise to assume that you haven’t been a pirate for your entire life? You noticed that I was educated. I have noticed the same of you. The Navy perhaps? But how does someone who was educated in the Navy become a pirate?”

“How does someone who knows proper grammar and etiquette start work in a tavern? How old are you, Swan?”

“How old are _you_?”

“Thirty-two as of next month.”

“Twenty-six for me. In October.”

Killian clicks his tongue, and she snaps her head up to look at him. He’s not smiling, but he’s pleased. She can see the mirth in his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth twitches.

“You know,” he sighs, pulling the chair out from under the table. It screeches against the floor and then groans when he sits down. “I heard a rather peculiar tale when I was in Misthaven.”

“Did you?”

“Aye. You see, Misthaven has been under a new ruling for the past few years. It seems the King and Queen were killed while sailing to visit the court in Arendelle. Since the law had not passed for a woman to be able to take the throne without a King, the deceased King’s brother took the throne. It seems the princess had been unwilling to marry her suitor and ran away. It takes a clever lass to avoid that many palace guards.”

Emma nods and picks at a thread in his blanket, pretending not to care too much for his story even as her heart explodes within her chest.

_He knows._

She knows that he does, that there’s no way he wouldn’t have figured it out, and maybe she should run away, should try to find some kind shelter. There has to be a reward out for her, and Killian may want it.

But if he did, he would have taken her already? He’s been here for weeks. He would have had his opportunities.

“It’s said she had hair made of gold and eyes made of emeralds, but to me, it almost seems that her hair is the color of sunshine and her eyes are comparable to only the ocean on a summer day. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She finally looks up, her lips parted to refute his assumption, but she finds that the words die on her tongue. Instead, she decides to ask another question entirely.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the moment I heard the tale last October. It was your birthday. They have a celebration in the village square.”

“If you knew how I was educated, why did you pester me about it back in the tavern? How is it fair that you know so much about my life and yet I know none of yours?”

“’Tis not fair. Nothing about life is.” Killian stands from the chair, its legs scraping against the wood again. He shrugs off his coat, his shirt underneath clinging to his muscles before it loosens. She can see the way his shoulders heave, the way he’s taking deep breaths, and he’s still turned away from her when he starts speaking. “I have no interest in reliving my past, but I will tell you these truths for the sake of good form. I was in the Navy until I was eighteen. My brother was killed because of our corrupt king, and I turned to piracy. Sometime later I met a woman who was my first love, but her husband took issue with this. He took my hand and since she wasn’t interested in being with a broken man, she went back to her husband. Is that everything you need to know?”

“Killian – ”

“Don’t,” he sighs, turning around with his face buried in his hand. “I don’t tell any of that for sympathy. I share because I should have ages ago. I don’t enjoy being on unequal footing with a woman I fancy, so the moment I figured out your past, I should have shared mine. It’s only right.”

“Thinking you’re on unequal footing is inane. This is not a game.”

He drops his hand and smiles halfheartedly. “No, I suppose it’s not.”

Neither of them speak next, silence lingering in between the two of them, and she keeps waiting for Killian to break the silence and fill the cabin with words. He doesn’t. And the longer it goes on, the more she thinks that the air gets thicker, heavier even.

The more she wonders how she’s even breathing.

“If you enjoy being on equal footing,” Emma finally begins, standing from the bed and sauntering toward Killian until she’s standing directly under his gaze and can smell the leather from his clothes, “then I must admit that I fancy you as well.”

He blinks, and she knows that the corner of his lips tick up.

Good.

“Aye?”

“Aye,” she whispers before pushing up her toes to glide her lips over his.

Emma has felt Killian’s lips on her before, but never like this. It was always on her skin somewhere, sometimes brief, sometimes not, but she has never actually kissed him. She’s never felt how the softness of his mouth mixes with her own or how his beard would feel rough rubbing against her chin. She’s never felt the warm swipe of his tongue or the way that he knows how to push and pull, how to give and take, and how to keep the pace slow, almost reverent when she was fully intending for this to turn into something that would have a fire burning so brightly in her belly that the entire ship would burn down.

That fire is definitely there, warming her, but she thinks she might be able to contain it if this pace continues.

Then again, this isn’t what she was expecting, and the gentleness of it all might make her lose her footing more than if they were to strip out of their clothes right now.

Killian pulls back first, but he doesn’t stray far. His forehead rests against hers, and his thumb has moves from her hair to her chin, his thumb resting in the indent so that she can feel the roughness of his skin and the cool, smooth texture of the metal making up his ring.

“I imagine your parents wouldn’t be too fond of you kissing a pirate.”

“I imagine not, but at some point, I think they would come around.” She leans into him again, brushing her lips over his as she speaks. “Tell me more about Killian Jones, the man. I’d like to know him outside of the view of everyone in the tavern.”

  
  
“I’m afraid you won’t find him to be as adventurous.”

“Try me.”

Killian chuckles, kissing her once more, this time quick and dirty and absolutely breath-taking, and for a moment, Emma almost tugs him back into her and pulls him down on the bed, but she’s not ready. Now she knows more about him, now she knows something past the physical frustration and the sexual desire, and she finds that she wants to talk to someone who knows about her past but isn’t trying to push her and pull her back into that life.

He’s got a past too, one as colorful and heart wrenching, and she craves knowing more of it.

If he’ll let her.

Killian nods and tells Emma to sit down. She settles on his bed, pulling her knees to her chest and watching as he pulls a series of leather-bound journals out of the ornate cabinet carved into the ship. He doesn’t say anything, simply sitting down on a wooden chair and flipping through the pages, reading a few words to himself, turning the page once again, and then he settles on a passage.

“Today, I set foot in Misthaven for the first time in over a decade. The journey here was full of calm, fall waters, and while a chill nips at my nose, I cannot deny how beautiful this kingdom is. Evergreen trees spread across the ground as far as they eye can see, but then, in the blink of an eye, there are vast stretches of white sand that link to the sea. It reminds me of when I was a boy, of the way my mother would take us to the beach before she died, and though I am here for work, I wonder of the possibility of staying here on a more permanent basis.”

Killian looks up to her, blue eyes cast in a hazy shade of gray, and she swears his cheeks may be shaded in pink.

“Though,” he continues, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I would be remiss to say that if I do not return to the Isles, I’ll never seen Emma Swan again. She’s fiery, that lass, and while I was first attracted to the curves that make up her body, I find that she is the only one who is not afraid to challenge me. I fancy that about her, even when she is yelling at me, and it would be a lie to say that I do not enjoy riling her up. Her cheeks turn pink, her lips press into a firm line, and then she shows me her wit that is purely unmatched.”

“You write about me in your journal?”

He doesn’t look at her. Instead he run his tongue against his teeth and flips through a few pages.

“With the information I’ve gathered today, I believe Swan to be the lost princes of Misthaven. This seems ludicrous, but I cannot turn my mind off to keep from thinking of this. The timeline, the description, the portraits of her in the village, all piece together. It is not my place to be intrusive, and while many would say that means I’ve gone soft, I cannot help but assume that she has run for a reason. She suffered a great loss, and as someone who has experienced many of those, I understand the urge to run. I live this life because of it.”

Emma studied anatomy in her schoolings, knows where each organ is supposed to be located, but she would be damned right now if her heart isn’t in her stomach, beating faster than it ever has while her throat constricts. Killian has obviously skipped over several pages and paragraphs in his journal, has not told her more than he has told her, but what he has told her is enough.

They understand each other, and maybe beneath the physical attraction, that has been there all along.

“Would you like to meet me by the river tomorrow?” Emma whispers as the ship rocks below them.

“Aye, love, I think I would.”

Killian meets her by the river a half hour pass noon the next day. The sun is beaming down on them, a gentle breeze whistling between the trees, and while the two of them share more than they have in the past, it is still but a bird pecking at the shallows. That changes, however, as more days come to pass. During the day, the two of them meet by the river, exchanging slow, lingering kisses that sometimes stay that way and other times leaver her entire body flushing, and at night, he comes to the tavern. There, life is almost as normal as it always is. He sits at his preferred table with his crew, women often trying to gain his attention, and while they are always unsuccessful, there’s a feeling of being unsettled that comes with it.

He has a reputation to uphold, and really, who is she to ruin that for him?

Captain Hook is who the world knows.

Killian Jones is who she is getting to know.

And as the spring melts into summer, that is who she is falling for in a way that she never allowed herself to expect. 

“Swan,” Killian whispers against the back of her neck, his breath warm as it ghosts over the expanse of her bare skin.

She shifts back into him, dragging her foot along the warm skin of his calf as he presses into her so that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest and the hard planes of a sea-worn body.

“Mhm,” Emma mumbles, tugging on his hand that is lying flat against her stomach.

“I’m afraid I have some news to share with you.”

The words do not truly settle in her mind. Instead, they stay on the outskirts, waiting and wanting to get in and settle, but her sated body and tired mind don’t allow that.

“And what’s that?”

“I received a letter a few days prior from an old acquaintance who says he has news of my old king once more trying to get his hands on the poison that killed Liam. I cannot let that happen, my love. He could kill thousands, and my men are getting restless. They need to be back on the sea before I have mutiny on my hands.”

Emma blinks and swallows while her stomach swirls, the words Killian is saying finally settling in her mind.

He’s leaving.

That is what Killian is trying to tell her, and she so wishes that she could fall back asleep and not hear any of it.

She knew this would happen, but she had allowed herself to feel comfortable, content even.

Emma had allowed herself to feel love despite knowing that it can be gone in the blink of an eye.

After her parents’ deaths and after many of her courtships in her youth, Emma always believed love to be fleeting, but in actuality, it is not. It seems that it takes no time at all to fall in the kind of love that would take a lifetime to get past, and she has allowed herself to do just that.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Emma makes an attempt to steady her breathing, to someone convince Killian that she has fallen asleep once more, but she knows that he doesn’t believe her when his lips press against her shoulder once more.

“I am a pirate, my love,” he whispers into her skin. “Tis the life I have chosen, and for now, I cannot settle down in one place. In the future, I am open to every possibility, but for now, I must go. Would I be a fool to ask you to come with me? I can show you a way of the world that you did not get as a child, and if you want, we can venture to Misthaven under the cover of the night and cloaks of disguise so you can be home once more.”

Emma opens her eyes again and takes in the soft glow of the candles still burning and the moonlight shining through the windows, a mix of a golden and silver glow, and she allows herself to imagine what leaving her safe haven would be like.

What going home would feel like even if that place is no longer hers.

“But it is your choice,” he continues, each word vibrating against her skin. “Everything is up to you, and if you choose to stay, know that I will count down every minute until I can get back to you.”

Nodding, Emma squeezes Killian’s hand once more. “How much time do I have to make my decision?”

“I will not leave until you have.”

She does not know what to say or how to put her thoughts into words, and while they are pressed together so that she can feel every inch of him, that is not nearly enough. So she glides their hands downward and shifts her leg back, hooking it over Killian’s calf, and he easily takes the hint, slowly touching her in a way that has her heart racing as his lips trail along her back and her shoulder, breathing her in as she does the same to him. The ship rocks gently below them in a soothing motion that Emma has grown to love, and the slowness of the ocean sets the slowness of their pace.

A gradual building that goes higher and higher and higher with each deft movement of Killian’s hand.

But then his hand is replaced, and he slides into her in a long, slow motion, heat radiating across her skin as he fills her. It’s familiar by now, and while she will admit that it is not always thrilling, there are times like this where she cannot imagine any other feeling beside being joined with him in the early morning hours.

The pace stays the same, sometimes slowing when Emma twists her neck to capture Killian’s mouth with hers, and she lingers in living on the edge of falling over, wanting to be there but being content to wait. She’s never liked waiting for much, especially good things, but with Killian, she’s found that waiting is always with it.

Waiting for him to flirt with her, waiting for him to be honest about who he is, waiting for him to come to the tavern, waiting for him to share his past, waiting for him to turn up in the markets with her favorite dessert when she thought he was working, waiting for him to fall in love…

And the thing that always gets her is that yes, she has bided her time and waited for him in certain aspects, but she has not sat idle. She has done her job, has spent time with those closest to her, has done things that she’s wanted to do. So much of her life was controlled, and she’s not yet done with experiencing the freedom of being the only person who has any right to tell her what to do. She may have been raised to wait for a man because he makes the final decisions, but that is not the life she is living now.

Heaven knows, she has made Killian wait for her as well.

Likely far more than she has ever waited for him.

And he is not making any decisions for her. That is all up to her.

Now, though, as Killian’s hand inches to where they’re joined, his fingers working what can only be considered magic, she knows that she is no longer waiting to fall over the edge into the bliss that leaves her warm and sated almost every time.

They do not move afterward. They do not speak either. Instead, they stay pressed together under the blankets in Killian’s cabin, and when they are ready again, they once again join together. This time is not slow. It’s hard and fast, and Emma can scarcely breathe as she holds on in desperation knowing that this could be the last time for a long time.

If not forever.

She wakes not remembering having fallen asleep, and she immediately knows she’s not sharing the bed with anyone else. The mattress is not nearly warm enough for Killian to still be here. When she blinks open her eyes, she sees him standing next to his dresser. He’s not yet clothed, but she watches as a finishes attaching his brace for his hook and then slips on one of his shirts, this one long and billowy and the darkest shade of black she’s ever seen. He doesn’t button the top, leaving his chest on display, and she finds that she can’t look away from him as he tugs up his trousers and tucks in the blouse before putting on his necklaces and rings on. Emma has grown so used to seeing a variation of his clothing nearly every day, of watching him methodically get dressed and then sit down over his logs, the official ones, not the ones where he writes about her, that she cannot quite imagine the day where she is not here to witness these every day moments that are the most ordinary she has ever had.

After a life filled with extravagant and extraordinary, Emma imagines that the thrill that runs down her spine at the thought of having her own normal is greater than any thrill she’s ever possessed before.

“Ah, good morning, my love,” Killian sighs when he sees her. He tugs one last lace on his leathers before sauntering toward her and leaning down to kiss her. He tastes of mint already, and she finds herself smiling about it. “Should I call to the kitchen to get you breakfast, or will you be joining the crew there?”

“Where are you off to?”

“First, to eat,” he smiles, scratching behind his ear before brushing his hair off his forehead. “Then I have preparations to arrange before we depart. Tonight, though, I am all yours, however you want me.”

  
  
“Captain, that is quite the dangerous position you’re giving me,” Emma laughs before letting the blankets fall around her as she stands and walks to the wardrobe to grab one of Killian’s shirts. “However I want you?”

“Anything for you, milady.”

Emma shakes her head and then turns back around to him, pressing up on her toes in order to wrap her arms around his neck and brush her lips over his mouth as she speaks. “I want to go with you.”

“Swan – ”

“Don’t protest,” she whispers as his hand and his hook settle at her hips. “You asked me, and I’m agreeing. I don’t know if I’ll want to go to Misthaven, but I do know that I am ready for a new adventure with you, whatever that may be.”


End file.
